a stranger is sincere
by grossly-sweet
Summary: In which Lance Hunter meets the Avengers and if anyone asks, he is absolutely no where near being intimidated. Really. ( One Shots )
1. Mister America

**(I'm not entirely read into all SHIELD protocols so I have no idea if this is realistic, would Bobbi get picked up at her house for a mission? Who knows. I'm not going to comment on the timeline of when this happened exactly either because timelines are just weird. I hope you'll enjoy the story any way.)**

"You do realise Halloween is not for another two months, right?" Hunter says as he enters his living room, noticing the strange man on his couch. He's wearing some kind of body tight suit decorated with stars and stripes. Very patriotic. Leaning against the side of the couch stood a shield decorated with red and blue stripes and a star. Hunter almost shook his head, the Americans and their flag.. S.H.I.E.L.D. attracts some weird types, he shouldn't be surprised really. The man on his couch looks up at the Halloween comment, completely oblivious to the sarcasm in Hunter's tone he replies: "yes, I'm aware. Why?" Hunter shakes his head, should he trust people who don't know sarcasm to have his wife's back? That something he could demand right? "Never mind, stars 'n stripes." On the other hand, maybe it was better if the handsome men his stunning wife worked with were humourless shells.

When Mister America gets up there's something else he can't help but notice: how muscled this man is. It's ridiculous really, shoulders that broad must slow him down. Mister America politely holds out his hand, "Steve Rogers." Hunter shakes the hand and introduces himself. Of course, he could've known that there wasn't just any Mister America sitting on his couch, but the Captain America himself. As he walks over to the kitchen to make coffee, Steve stays standing. "So, you're here to steal my wife?" Hunter breaks the uncomfortable silence, if anyone asks he absolutely is not intimidated by this man with a few muscles and a ridiculous suit. "I'm sorry," Steve Rogers replies, and he sounds very sincere. Hunter grins. "Yeah, good luck, mate. I'll be watching football, I'll translate for you: good ol' soccer, with a beer while you have to put up with that demonic hell beast." Steve's eyes widened, if only slightly. If Captain America hadn't seemed out of place in his living room before, now it was obvious Cap himself felt out of place.

"Don't get me wrong, I love her. But breaks like this are probably what make our marriage work," Hunter continued. In truth, he hated it when she was gone. But that was none of Steve Rogers business. "Now, tell me Captain America," he said, not able to keep the mocking tone out of his voice when he pronounced Steve's title. "That suit, and the colours, not very discrete is it?" To his surprise, Steve Rogers laughed. Lance Hunter never thought seventy year old fossils could laugh. He hides his surprise with some politeness, and offers the other man coffee. Before Steve can answer with a voice that, if you ask Hunter, is way too deep, Bobbi walks in. "Yes, thank you," she grins, taking Hunter's coffee out of his hand. Hunter's protests only earn him a smirk, no coffee. His wife is in full tactical suit too, only hers is black. Not tighter than Steve's. Seriously, why would someone voluntarily wear something like that? To show off their six pack?

Bobbi downs the coffee in one sip, and sets it on the counter. "I hope my husband here didn't bother you too much," Bobbi tells her temporary work partner. "Oh, no of course not," Steve says quickly. Hunter is tempted to ask Cap if sarcasm wasn't invented yet back in forties, would that be crossing the line? One look at Bobbi told him that she'd probably see it as crossing the line.

Bobbi grabs a granola bar and turns around to suggest they leave when Hunter's arm is suddenly around her waist and he kisses her passionately. He's usually much grumpier when she has to go in early in the morning like this, but if Steve's presence makes him kiss her like that she should invite Cap over more often.

Hunter is very pleased with the uncomfortable look on Steve's way too symmetrical face after he pulls back from the kiss. The beautiful face in question picks up his shield, and Hunter wonders how someone can move that gracefully and still look so manly.

"Ready to go?" Steve Rogers asks. Bobbi nods and attaches her staves to her back, she quickly pecks her husband's lips, to reassure him in a way he'll only admit needing when he's very drunk. Steve nods at Hunter, "nice meeting you, Lance." Hunter sighs inwardly, no one is that polite. Maybe that's what all the fuss is about then? This guy is muscled _and_ polite. Then this man should've just stayed a comic book character, really. "Yes, lovely to put a real face to the oh-so-famous name," Hunter replies. As Steve makes his way to the door, Hunter tells his wife, "don't die out there, love." Bobbi flashes him one of her blinding smiles. "See you," she told him, never putting a time stamp to when she'd be back because when did anything ever go according to plan in their line of work.

Hunter might or might not have flexed his muscles at the mirror once later that day to make sure that he's no Captain America, but he's not so bad himself.

 **A/N: This was inspired by and interview with Ian De Caestecker and Nick Blood at MCM London Comic Con. The question they were asked was "what do you think your characters would do if they ever actually met an Avenger?"**

 **So, some credits for the idea to that then. It's an adorable interview, if you're ever bored you should watch it. And that's about it, I have some chapters about the other Avengers too. If anyone's interested I'm planning on posting those too, soon.**


	2. Widow Maker

**A very good evening, or morning, or afternoon. Where ever you live.**

 **This just dragged itself on, and once again is placed nowhere particular in any time line. Why Natasha Romanoff would ever visit the Hunter-Morse residence? Beats me. But that doesn't mean I can't build some ridiculous story around it, amirite?**

Before Lance Hunter was even fully awake on a previously normal Thursday morning, his left hand was twisted behind his back and his right hand, well that one was probably broken. It sure felt like it. How he ended up in this position so early in the morning? Yeah, Hunter himself was still trying to figure that out.

His first reaction was quite understandable. "What the hell!" he tried to yell, but he was kind of also nearly suffocation, because of his face being pressed down with quite some force into the mattress and all. And then to think that four minutes ago the back was resting on his pillow and he lay in a comfortable star fish position on this soft mattress, seriously when your face is pressed against it, it is suddenly a whole lot less comfortable. Four minutes ago he was awoken by unfamiliar footsteps in his house, when he heard someone walking around his first thoughts were that Bobbi was home. But Lance knew his footsteps, and these didn't belong to his wife.

So a little less than four minutes ago Lance had reached for the gun in his nightstand and loaded it. He got up as quietly as he could and moved to stand next to where the door would open, did the unfamiliar presence in his house make the unwise decision to enter the bedroom of the house. ( Or at least, somewhere around three minutes ago Lance thought it'd be an unwise decision for his attacker to enter the bedroom. His arm twisted behind his back proved otherwise. )

Two minutes ago Lance decided he would hit the burglar first, and then shoot them. To give them the benefit of the doubt. It might be a friendly burglar, after all. Who knows. If Lance was a burglar he would appreciate the benefit of the doubt. These and more random thoughts were circling through his head when the door opened one and a half minute ago. Immediately on high alert Lance's fist had shot out in the direction of whoever-was-opening-the-door's face. His hand reached a face but never fully connected with it, because a hand locked around his wrist. At the same time the owner of that hand threw open the door. Before Lance could fully register what was happening, his right hand was smacked against the wall and the gun hit the floor. Within that same movement his attacker yanked on his left arm, and placed a nasty kick in his knee holes causing him to sink to the ground. The left arm of a completely baffled Lance Hunter was twisted behind his back by his attacker and his face was pressed down.

This brings us to the uncomfortable position Lance finds himself in now. His yelling into the mattress hasn't gotten any response yet, so he does what any reasonable person would do in this situation: he curses some more. That is, until his attacker yanks him up again, bringing his left arm into an even more unnatural position. There is a split second where Lance could strike out with right hand, but it is almost as if his attacker can read his mind. Now both his arms are locked behind his back and he is being led out of the bedroom. At this point Lance Hunter thinks he knows what his attacker is capable off so it might be best for his limbs and dignity that he stops fighting back, until he has a better angle, of course.

Lance almost has another heart attack when he sees his wife face down on the couch, there's a lot of blood. When did she even come home? And more importantly, is she dea- "Natasha!" Lance's ill train of thoughts is cut off when his wife opens his eyes. Lovely, not dead. Or worse, like a zombie? Okay, focus. "What are you doing with my husband?" Bobbi questions. That's when Hunter figures that his attacker is probably named Natasha. The attacker in question let go of his wrists as soon as the word _husband_ fell, like he was a piece of gum under her shoe. "Crazy bitch," Hunter mumbles, with the full intention that _Natasha_ can hear him. Not that it bothered her in any way, but it made Lance feel a little bit better.

He stretched his arms and cradled his broken hand, okay maybe he shouldn't go as far as broken but it sure hurt, to his chest. He moved to sit down on the coffee table facing his wife when Natasha spoke up for the first time. "He attacked me first," she shrugged. "It is my house, for crying out loud!" Hunter couldn't let it go, but for now he turned to his wife. "Bob, what the hell happened?" Gesturing to the blood and gore she was covered in. "We were just a little outnumbered, but we took them down. Now I have a few scrapes and bruises," Bobbi explained vaguely. "She also has some dendrotoxin in her system," Natasha added helpfully.

The widening of Lance's eyes with the mention of dendrotoxin didn't go unnoticed by Bobbi. "Oh, it's nothing. I slept it off on the way to the base. It's no lethal toxin," she quickly reassured him. Lance nodded and moved on to the next thing on his mind: "and why did you take super ninja here home with you?" The corners of Natasha's mouth might've twitched slightly at that nickname.

"Nat, you met my husband, Lance Hunter. Lance, you've met my," Bobbi hesitated for a second, and, for lack of a better word, finished her sentence with: "colleague, Natasha Romanoff." And then Bobbi explains Romanoff's presence: "Nat took me home because I wasn't cleared for driving yet." Hunter took a moment to look from spy to spy, well aware that's all the explanation he's going to get. Then he let his head rest in his hands and grunted. "It's a wonder I don't take up drinking."

"You did, though," Bobbi lets him know. And Hunter doesn't have a reply to that, he just loves beer. And vodka, and, well, alcohol in general is great. Bobbi pushes herself up and sits across of him, their knees touching. Oh does her man look like a puppy sometimes. So she kisses him, first his injured hand and then she takes his face in her hand and kisses him more fiercely. She'll blame it on the near death experience if anyone asks, not on the ruggedly handsome puppy face of her husband.

On the contrary to Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff isn't so much as fazed by all the PDA the couple has going on. Natasha Romanoff is a woman of many skills, cooking isn't one of them. That's why she sits down in the chair next to the couch and waits 'till the kissing session is over, the least she is expecting in return for bringing Bobbi home is a good breakfast. As if on command Bobbi's stomach growls.

That doesn't break the kiss, do they have to go at it like horny teenagers right now? Natasha lets out an impatient couch, the Black Widow is nothing if not subtle. But screw subtly when she's hungry. "Hey, lovebirds. Are you going to break this up anytime soon, or shall I make my own breakfast?"

Bobbi grins and Hunter sighs, he might have completely forgotten the redhead was there. He gets up, considers throwing her out but he knows she'll have the upper hand in any fight. "My hand is broken," he tries. "Oh, quit whining," Natasha scoffs. "You shouldn't have pointed a gun at me in the first place." Bobbi follows the conversation with an amused look. "I'm going to take a shower and get this thing off," Bobbi announces. And Hunter offers his help, of course. Maybe because he wants some alone time with his wife, and maybe because he doesn't really wants to be left alone in one room with Natasha Romanoff. The latter now speaks: " _I_ can help." Natasha grins at Hunter's mouth that opens and closes again.

"I'll be fine," Bobbi says before this can escalate. Hunter nods absentmindedly, does anyone even want to know what is going on in his head right now. Suddenly pulled from his daydream he finds his voice again. "And I'll make breakfast." He finishes that sentence with a mumbled: "but not before saving _that_ image in my head."

A silence falls over the two left behind in the room. Hunter cooks, and Natasha sits. "We could both go help her out," he tries to joke, but it falls flat. Natasha swings her legs over the arm rest of the chair so she can see him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she answers. Hunter shrugs, a light smile forming on his lips. "Who wouldn't? I mean, I love my wife, but you're hot." When Hunter notices his wife standing in the doorway however, he adds a quick: "too."

Bobbi ignores the weird conversation that's going on when she asks: "Nat, I think I pulled one of my stitches, can you take a look?" Bobbi is standing there in her bra and her tactical suit hanging loosely on her waist. When Natasha gets up and closes the door behind her to follow Bobbi to the bathroom, Hunter feels like he can finally breathe again. _What is his life?_

When Natasha returns she leans on the counter that's connected to the stove, her back to the living room and, yes, Hunter can look very much into her shirt. "Was that your best flirting, English boy? Because then to me it's a mystery how you got someone like Barbara Morse. She's quite the catch." Hunter scoffs. " _I'm_ quite the catch," is Hunter's weak comeback.

The fact that the assassin laughs, is quite offensive. And creepy, but he won't admit that. So Hunter shakes his head, puts food on three plates and brings them to the table. "Is this the part where you agree with me, 'cause I am quite the catch, and take off all your clothes? We'll have to bring Bob in on this of course," Hunter inquires, without daring to look back and make eye contact. As much as it is creepy when people with lethal skills laugh, he isn't much of a fan of their glaring abilities either.

Yeah, no one would be flattered by that comment. "This is the part where I might kick your ass, _again._ " Hunter nearly flinches. "I won't stop her this time," Bobbi adds to Natasha's statement. Hunter almost flinches again, he hadn't noticed Bobbi had returned. "Black Widow, huh? More like Widow Maker," Hunter tries. Admittedly, his come backs are terrible today. But in his defence, one particular deadly red head attacked him already and it's not even five am yet.

They all sit down with eggs and bacon and toast, and conversation flows easily. Hunter listened to some conversations between his wife and Natasha about _that one thing_ and _oh and then that._ This happened when their topics simply became too classified to say anything else than _that_ and _thing_. He had one hell of a morning, but hey, it was never boring at their cute little house.

 **A/N: One of the biggest mysteries of the US (and the UK, for that matter) to me is probably their breakfast culture/rituals, so yeah there's that. Well, that and the many words there are in the English language for things to make a bed with, but that's one whole other story. Tbh, there's very little I understand from y'all overseas. I just watch** _ **a lot**_ **of TV shows.**

 **All jokes aside: thank you for reading, I hope it was enjoyable.**


	3. A Bloke With A Bow

**** Avengers: Age of Ultron spoilers ahead, I warned you. ****

"Where are we going?" Hunter asks for what might be the hundredth time. He is an impatient toddler sometimes, or actually most of the time. Bobbi shakes her head at her husband's antics. "I told you, it's cl-" Before she can finish her sentence Hunter waves her answer with away with his hand. "Classified, yeah I know. You told me." With a smile on her face Bobbi bites back a _then why do you ask._

"Seriously, you said we were going to dinner and now we're on a plane with that bloke-with-a-bow," Hunter complains. He paces through the length of the plane one more time. It if wasn't for the cute summer dress his wife was wearing he would never have agreed to this. They're on a S.H.I.E.L.D. issued plane for crying out loud.

"I heard that," the man flying the plane called from the cockpit. Bobbi grins, and that is one of Hunter's other problems. He vaguely knows the man in control of the plane, he knows Bobbi works with him on a regular basis. He's seen the man in action when he was oh so very coincidental at the same place at the same time as Bobbi on one of her missions. And really, who shoots with a bow and arrow in the era of automatic weapons? Some people mind find that admirable, Lance Hunter finds it cocky.

Bobbi pulls Hunter down next to her, holding on to his hand she tells him; "it's still just dinner, Lance. Trust me." Lance scoffs, couldn't they just have dinner at that taco place at the end of the street like any other normal couple. "Oh I trust you, Bob. Maybe I just don't trust the man currently keeping our plane in the air."

"Clint's a nice guy," Bobbi defends her friend and occasional partner in arms. In response Hunter grumbles; "maybe a little too nice." Hunter feels quite secure in his marriage, yes, you could say he is happily married. He just doesn't get why all the guys his wife works with have to be so bloody muscled. "You're quite something yourself," Bobbi assures him as if she can read his mind. Then she pats his knee and places a kiss on his cheek. When she gets up to walk over the cockpit, Hunter won't deny he ogles her, eh, beautiful dress. He never thought he'd call anything his wife wears _cute_ , and he doesn't know if it is the casual flower print. The low cut back sure isn't what calls up the feeling of domestic bliss.

As Bobbi returns to sit back next to him, Clint's voice comes from the cockpit. "Buckle up, we'll arrive within ten minutes."

When you ask Lance Hunter he would say that his marriage to Bobbi was not only happy (most of the time), it was also full of surprises. However, nothing earlier in his marriage prepared him for what was coming. When the ramp opened he saw a cute little farm. The whole thing with a white wooden veranda. At this point it was all very innocent, but never trust picket fences. Did anyone important ever say that? Probably.

Clint Barton swung a bag over his shoulder and casually walked out of the plane, no loaded guns in sight. But knowing how this man could fight, that really wasn't all that reassuring. "Come on," Bobbi broke his train of thoughts, grabbing his hand.

Hunter didn't fail to notice that Hawkeye's steps got lighter when he got closer to the house, and he had to admit it didn't look all that threatening.

Lance and Bobbi followed Clint into the house, as Clint called out to whoever was supposed to be in the house. Well who would've thought one of the earth's mightiest heroes would ever use the words _honey, I'm home._ What came running down the stairs was probably the last thing Hunter was expecting. When he heard feet padding down the stairs, Lance visibly tensed, when he saw it was just kids running down the stairs he relaxed a little. When the kids called Hawkeye _daddy_ , Hunter was nothing less than flabbergasted.

He looked aside to see if his wife was just as surprised, but her face was taken over by a stunning smile. "Do you remember, Bobbi?" Clint Barton asked the little ones while still kneeled in front of them. The little girl shyly waved from the safe place in her father's arms. The little boy was already wrapped around her legs, and Hunter felt like he might have a stroke right there. He tried to estimate the ages of these children and frantically calculated in his head.

Then another person descended from the stairs. "Clint," she said with a content sigh. And the archer in question got up, his little girl still wrapped around his legs, to greet the woman. His arms were around his waist and they kissed in a way Hunter felt like an intruder in a very intimate moment. Instead he shifted his gaze to Bobbi and the little boy. The kid was animatedly telling Bobbi something and seeing his wife like that kind of melted his heart. It didn't take away that he still had no idea as to what the hell was going on here.

Bobbi got up, and hugged the woman. "Laura, it's so good to see you," Bobbi said with a smile. Hunter could feel the little boy staring at him. It was silent for a second as also all the adults turned to him too. The little girl, now up on her father's hip, tilted her head slightly, looking at the strange man in her house. Hunter was just about to consider bolting, when Laura opened her mouth. "You must be Lance, it's so nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you!" A dumbfounded Hunter nodded and shook her hand. "I wish I could say the same," was his quick response. Then he backtracked, "that I've heard much about you too I mean. It's nice to meet you too." Laura just grinned and turned to the living room, when she passed Bobbi she told her not so subtly; 'I like him, good choice."

Hunter was very aware the little boy was still staring. "You talk funny," the kid said. "Do I know?" Lance tells the kid. From the corner of his eye he sees Bobbi and Clint exchanging money. They bet on him? "Can someone tell me what the bloody h-" Were kids eyes supposed to be that big? This was what was on Lance's mind when he quickly swallowed his swear word. "What is going on here?" he tried again. Bobbi was busy being dragged further into the house by the little girl with two braids, not too busy to glance over her shoulder and laugh at him a little more. So Clint answered; "that's my wife, Laura." Hunter nodded, the cocky archer had a wife. Sure, that was not unexpected at all. Before Clint could introduce the little ones in the room, the boy was tugging on his pants. "And I'm Cooper!" the boy told Lance proudly. Hunter gave the boy a thumbs up, not sure how he was supposed to react.

Clint gestured to follow him and Lance did because, well, bolting seemed out of the question. As he stepped into the living room, careful not to step on any of the toys scattered all around, Hunter became aware of his newfound appreciation for the superhero.

Truth be told, Lance never really liked Clint Barton. For the simple reason that at times the archer got to spend more time with his wife than Lance himself could. Endless missions could do something to a guy's jealousy. .nd Hawkeye was annoyingly likeable, with this wits and his cocky bow and arrow. But Lance never thought there was more to the guy than that.

But now all reservations Lance had about Clint were thrown out the window and replaced by respect. Respect for what this man had built here, and what he still did out there. "Over your initial shock?" Clint commented with an annoying smirk on his face. Lance nodded. "So, Bobbi's been here before then?" As Clint was setting the table, and Hunter was still trying to wrap his mind around this domestic setting, Cooper answered the question. "Bobbi babysits us." Well, that was quite something. "Do you play soccer?" Cooper asked. See, that's what's so great about kids, soccer above everything. That was something he could do.

 **A/N: I know many people didn't like Clint's family plot in Age of Ultron but, I'm not going to lie, I absolutely adore them. So this had to happen.**

 **This was whole lot longer but I cut it, because I couldn't get it right. Might give it another shot real soon.**

 **Lastly I want to thank everyone who followed and favourite this story, that is everything! And the reviews of course, I just love those.**


	4. Clint's Red Haired Target

**So, I'm not up to date on head cannons and comics and all that stuff. Seriously, there's so much out there.. I don't know which one to follow. But let's stick to the thing where Clint was sent to kill Natasha but recruited her for SHIELD instead. Also, he was Bobbi's partner at some point. ( work partner.) And then he brought Natasha to Bobbi's house. If that doesn't sound promising, I don't know what does. Please don't let me scare you away with sarcastic remarks, judge for yourselves!**

 **ALSO! Last chapters are like in another universe than this one, or something.**

Snuggling on the couch is one of Hunter's favourite ways to spend his free time with his wife, of course there's that thing that involves less clothes but snuggling is his favourite PG-rated activity. That's why the person who is knocking at his door already had a -1 for sympathy even before Hunter opened the door. On the other side of the door was Clint Barton. Well, -5 on Lance's mood. "Who is it?" Bobbi called from the couch. Hunter grunted, if he called back it was the neighbour and close the door, what were the chances Clint would break his window with an arrow? It's not something the archer hasn't done before, Hunter added bitterly in his mind.

"Are you going to let me in?" Clint Barton questioned from where he was standing on the porch. It occurred to Hunter that this was the point where he could say no, and could go back to his wife on the couch and- "Depends on what brings you to my doorstep on this previously wonderful evening," Hunter replies, knowing full well his wife wouldn't let him live it down if he'd said no and just shut the door in her friend and partner's face. "Can I explain inside, please," Clint said before letting his eyes dart around the perimeter. And then suddenly there was a red head next to him, very hot and very much in handcuffs. "She can come in," Hunter bargained. Barton just glared and ushered the redhead inside.

Hunter closes the door and leans against it, letting out a long sigh. Goodbye, quiet evening. "Clint?" Bobbi said from the couch. And then upon noticing the red head she added an angry; "what the hell?" Ah, what a relief to have someone agreeing with him. "What is she doing in my house?" his wife told Clint with a voice that Hunter knew to be more dangerous than when she was yelling. But that was when Lance caught on to the 'she' part. Personally, Lance found the 'he' suddenly in his house a much bigger problem.

Currently his wife seemed to be having a lengthy discussion through glares with the archer, something Lance finds remotely annoying. "Anyone coffee, then? A beer? We might as well make ourselves comfortable," Hunter tries to break the staring contest. He was completely ignored by both S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, the red head however spoke up. "A beer would be nice, thanks," she spoke. Hunter was stunned for a moment, not sure if her voice sounded deadly or magical, or both. Also: when had someone tied redhead to a chair? Just when Hunter thought he might as well get the red head a beer and make himself comfortable with the stunning woman while Bobbi and Clint had their staring match, Bobbi breaks his train of thoughts. "Lance, don't move," she says through gritted teeth. "Let the man get his beer," Clint commented. Lance crosses his arms over his chest, he's not some child that has to leave so the grownups can talk!

"Like hell I am," he tells Clint, siding with his wife in a heartbeat. That's when he sees that Bobbi is now closer to the coffee table than before. "Oh, Bob. Please, don't shoot him. I don't want to move again because there's brain's on the wall we can't explain to the cops," Hunter says before his wife can make a move. "Wait, there's brains on the wall you can explain?" Clint asks, distracted from the matter that Bobbi was indeed going for the gun. A distraction that could've been deadly, if it wasn't for the fact that the gun was aimed at someone else.

"I was going to shoot her," Bobbi told her husband calmly. Damn, she was quick. When did his life become this freaking action film. "Put a silencer on it or something then, the neighbours are nosy enough as it is," Hunter tried again. But Bobbi wasn't listening, instead she was looking at Clint. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot her right now?"

Clint seemed to look out of his eyes a little more panicky than a moment before. "Unexplainable brains?" was his weak argument. "She's hot," Hunter tried to help the man out. Could glares physically hurt? Because Bobbi's sure did.

Slowly Bobbi lowered her weapon. "Let's try this again. What is the Black Widow doing in my living room?" Clint Barton let out a visible sigh of relief. "And how about my beer?" the red head, Black Widow apparently, dared to inquire. Well, with a name like that Hunter suspected there wasn't much this woman didn't dare.

Clint flopped onto one of the more comfortable chairs than the one the Black Widow was tied to and asked for a beer too. His wife remained standing, and on high alert. Hunter decided now would be a good time to get a drink and he retreated to the kitchen to grab some beers from the fridge. When he returned the tension in the room was heavy. The ever easy going Hunter offered a beer to Clint, and then one to the mysterious Black Widow, too late he realized her hands were tied so she shouldn't be able to accept the beer. Too late being after her hand did reach out to accept the beer, too late being when he saw the cap of the beer bottle already coming for his face. And before he could properly whine about the fact that his nose was probably broken, her knee had already connected with his groin. When Hunter doubled over in, the Black Widow had her hands in his hair pulling him up and then her arm was in some sort of deadlock around his neck. Hunter's baffled mind wondered if it would be appropriate to comment that they matched now, her red hair and his bloody nose.

Clint, who had sprung up the moment the beer bottle connected with Lance's face, looked helpless without his bow but mostly pissed. "Stand down, Romanoff!" he yelled a little louder than necessary. Ah, she had a real name too. Interesting. "Cut the bull, agent Barton. Why did you take me here?" the Black Widow said in a dangerously low voice, her mouth next to his ear made Lance shiver, in the way when someone fears for his life. He did like the way how she said 'agent' almost mockingly.

"I couldn't exactly march you into a S.H.I.E.L.D. base, could I?" was Clint's answer. "There are plenty of empty safe houses around, why my house?" Bobbi continued Romanoff's line of question. Lance wasn't sure if he liked the fact that these two dangerous woman now seemed to be on the same line, he nearly felt sorry for Clint, since the two seemed to be sided against him now. About that, was anyone going to address the fact he was still in some deadlock? Not that he minded the boobs pressed against his ba- No. He was a married man.

"I needed back up, Morse. She's unpredictable," Clint clarified. "How about, unstable? Untrustworthy? Unsafe?" Bobbi inquired, clearly not satisfied with the explanation. "Are you going to tell me why you didn't take her out?" Bobbi continued. Take her out? Now was probably a good time to worry. Couldn't anyone take out that bloody Romanoff now? Lance was pretty sure the red head in question was tightening her grip on his neck.

"In what universe was marching an assassin into a neighbourhood full of innocent civilians a better idea than marching her into a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility? Why did you take your target home anyway?" Bobbi ranted, still furious. "You did," Clint replied, was that his way of lightening the mood? That smug bastard. Lance wouldn't deny that the comment stung a little. He noticed his wife's eyes quickly darting his way. "I was supposed to require intelligence from my target, you were supposed to take your target out. Don't compare my marriage to your stupid ideas," Bobbi threw back. Hunter almost cheered, if it wasn't for that damn arm around his neck.

If no one was coming to his aid, Lance might as well try and save himself. "Now would be a nice time to let me go, love," Hunter said, knowing that with fighting himself free he wouldn't have the upper hand. So he gave asking nicely a shot.

To his surprise, the Black Widow let go of him and Hunter fell onto the couch, gasping dramatically. Bobbi patted his head, as she sat down next to him. She was visibly more relaxed. The peace and quiet lasted for about ten seconds. The doorbell. Lance pressed his face into Bobbi's stomach for a second, wiping off the blood still oozing form his nose onto her shirt in the process. Then he got up, and internally crossed his fingers that the doorbell was not the next door neighbour who he was pretty sure suspected him of spousal abuse.

Behind his back he heard his wife and Clint discussing something in hushed tones. Angry hushed tones. For the second time that night Lance Hunter opened his front door. He should probably be thankful that the guns meeting him had the decency to ring the bell and did not break the door immediately. "Nick Fury, what a pleasure," Lance said to man amidst of the barrels pointed at his head. He hoped he spoke loud enough to alert the people in the living room. If they were doing something illegal, now was the time to flee. "I think you know damn well what I am doing here, Lance Hunter," Nick Fury spoke. How that man could speak with such authority, was what Lance would like to know. It always gave him the urge to raise his hands up in the air, he didn't suppress it too. He walked backwards while muttering about being innocent. He got his wits back quick, but didn't lower his hands. "Clint, your ride is here," he said.

After that everything went pretty quick. It took four grown man to take the Black Widow into custody, if Lance counted correctly. Nick Fury scolded his agents and Lance plopped on the couch and watched. There was much more action in his life than the film they'd been watching. Out on the porch, as he watched Romanoff and Barton go, he couldn't resist but wave nicely at his next door neighbour. Surely pressing her face at the window like that was overdoing it a bit?

 **Author's note: I know I did Clint and Natasha already but I just love them very much. And Natasha beating up Hunter? Uhu.**

 **But what I meant to say: if there's anyone specifically you'd like to see. Please, tell me. ( Tell me what you thought in general, I like that. )**


	5. Agent not-so-CHill

**First: If you've noticed, yes I moved this to the cross overs. I was planning on doing that but I forgot all the time so yeah. That.**

 **Okay moving on. Maybe I didn't count Maria Hill as one of the Avengers. So, thanks very much to** _ **Spitfire303**_ **for that idea/suggestion. This little something came from it, I hope you like it. Lastly, I want to thank everyone who followed and favourited and everything. Y'all are awesome.**

 **Oh, and lastly this thing is dripping with Huntingbird. I'm not sure if I can apologize for that and mean it.**

The first thing Lance heard when he woke up was two woman arguing.

"..terrible idea!" one practically yells. Admittedly, that is not the most positive note to wake up to. "Do you know the definition of secret, Agent Morse?" The voice doesn't sound particularly cheerful, and not familiar to Lance. That name however, Lance does recognize.

He squints at the bright lights as he tries to open his eyes. "He would've bled out, Maria!" Agent Morse replied, she sounded tired and agitated. Now that Lance's eyes were used to the light he could clearly see, she looked tired too. Not any less beautiful, if now was the time to get sappy.

It probably wasn't the time. Who could've bled out? Were they talking about him? It was apparently serious because _Maria_ seemed to deflate a little. Lance opened his mouth, to try and get some attention, but his voice wasn't very cooperative. His throat felt dry and raw. "And there was no hospital anywhere near?" the dark haired woman asks, that was probably Maria. Since there was no one else near. Her comment had a sarcastic undertone to it, and Lance decided that so far he liked this woman.

Bobbi sighed deeply, she didn't seem to like the sarcasm that much. "I couldn't very well march him bullet ridden into the emergency room, could I? And don't you think that the first place where they would've looked is the nearest hospital?" Bobbi questioned. Now that Lance looked a little longer, Bobbi didn't only looked tired, she probably hadn't showered in a few days too.

"They were after you, not your little British boyfriend. You could've left him at the hospital and left. He probably would've survived if you just left him in a gutter and called an ambulance for him," Maria replied. At this point Lance was wondering if this Maria was the infamous Maria Hill that always called Bobbi in, away from him. If this was she, Hunter immediately liked her a whole lot less.

"I wasn't going to let my husband die in a gutter!" Bobbi yelled and Lance's heart fluttered. They were definitely talking about him. He was husband to the gorgeous Barbara Morse, even though it had only been a week or two. And that made Hunter wonder what day it was anyway. Maybe those two could stop arguing and give him some attention and ice chips. Maybe they even did sponge baths in this place.

Over at the end of his bed something else was happening. "Bob, you eloped!" Maria almost squealed. And then the two women were hugging. Or actually, Maria was hugging a quite unresponsive Bobbi. "Congrats!" Maria continued. And then she followed it up with a punch and an "I can't believe you didn't invite me."

It was quite the soap opera. But the best part was probably over and Hunter thought it was just the time to interrupt when Maria spoke up again. "Lance Hunter, though?" she said with a grin. Hello, he was quite the catch! When Lance tried to voice that, it came out more as "Eh, I" and a cough.

Bobbi's head whipped around immediately and then she was at his bedside. "Lance, you okay," she asked him with her hand on his cheek. "Peachy," Lance replied. Instead of the 'I'm so glad you're alive'-kiss Lance was suspecting, he got hit. "Whaa," was Lance's incoherent response. "Don't ever do that again, you asshole," Bobbi said. "Are you insane? Taking a bullet for me? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, I don't need you dying for that."

Before Lance could respond, Maria spoke up at the end of the bed. "Ha! I knew it, you took him here out of guilt," was her remark. While Bobbi grabbed the bottle of water on the nightstand and held it just two inches too far away for Hunter to reach the straw she glared at Maria. "I don't feel guilty for his stupid decisions," Bobbi shot back.

Hunter pushed himself up on his elbows to get a sip of the water. "A thank you would've been enough, love," he tells his wife. "How long was I out?"

Bobbi sighed and told him what he wanted to know. Four days was quite a while, so fair enough she yelled at him. "And you didn't shower?" Hunter asked with a grin. That earned him another punch, shoulder this time. But the tiniest smile on her face was all worth it.

"Lovely. Morse, go shower. I'll have to debrief your _husband_ ," Maria said, her all professional tone returned. Okay, those air quotes she did when she called Lance the Husband were everything but professional. Bobbi glanced warily between her superior and her husband. "Don't worry, I won't kill him," Maria reassured Bobbi.

And with one last peck on his lips, Bobbi disappeared through the doors. The only sound remaining in the room was the beeping heart monitor. Lance wasn't sure what was happening. It wasn't like he was a suspect that needed to stew. Or was he?

"So," Maria broke the tense silence. She sat down on the chair next to the bed and crossed her legs. "Lance Hunter." Lance felt similar to a teenager in the principal's office. "Yes, that's me," he replied awkwardly. "My name is Maria Hill, I'm the deputy director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and currently Morse's handler," Maria Hill started. Before she could continue Lance added: "and the one who cut my honey moon short, thanks for that." Maria Hill shook her head. "Had I been made aware of the fact Morse had recently gotten married-" Lance cut her off mid-sentence. "Yes, then you would've still sent Bobbi on that mission." Lance Hunter was a clever guy, and with Bobbi the job already went before most things. With some high up like Maria Hill, there was probably nothing more important than S.H.I.E.L.D. business. "True. What brought you to that mission, then?" Maria Hill said. Lance grinned. "My wife, obviously," Lance was quick to reply. "Bobbi brought you along?" Maria asked, confused.

"Oh no, calm down. Bobbi would never comprise her beloved S.H.I.E.L.D., I just went after her. Good I was there too, turns out," Lance tells Maria Hill, gesturing at his bandaged torso. "How many bullets are in here anyway?"

"Currently, none," Maria answered his question. "But our doctors took out three bullets from your chest and stitched up one graze on your upper arm."

"See, I saved your beloved agent's life. What are you here scolding me for then? Who am I going to tell? You can march me out of here blindfolded for all I care but I ain't apologising for being in the right place at the right time," Lance ranted.

Maria Hill only pulled up one eyebrow in response. Lance felt anything but taken seriously. "Oh, I'm not here for professional reasons. S.H.I.E.L.D. has no reason to believe your memory should be wiped," Maria Hill told him. And it wasn't at all reassuring. "Wait, you can do that?" Lance asked in a little higher pitch than he meant to. "Oh sure we can," Maria Hill replied. And Lance suddenly felt a whole lot less comfortable in the hospital bed.

"However, I'm here for purely personal reasons," Maria Hill continued. "You see, I am not only Bobbi's handler, she is also a close friend of mine. And you, I'm not so sure about you. Unemployed?" Was this Maria Hill's version of the big brother talk? "Hey! Only occasionally," Lance defended himself. Maria Hill scoffed. "Oh that's right, you're merc. Why's that? Commitment issues?"

Lance was downright offended. Maybe Maria Hill was slightly right, but that didn't mean she had to call him out on it like that. "I married her, didn't I?" was Lance's counterargument. "Sure, and how much of a heat of the moment decision was that?" Maria Hill questioned. "Excuse you, I proposed to her months ago," Lance defended himself again. He wasn't all bad news, honestly. "You two don't exactly have a healthy relationship," Maria continued.

Now it was Lance's turn to scoff. "Where's the fun in healthy relationships anyway?" Maria Hill shook her head, she seemed to be doing that a lot. "As long as Bobbi's happy, I guess. Moving on: do you need me to spell out for you what I'll do to you when you hurt her?" Maria Hill asked in her no jokes tone. Lance visibly winced, and when he didn't immediately reply, Maria added: "I have a lot of skilled people under my command."

Lance nodded. Message clear. At that moment Bobbi entered the room again, almost as if she'd waited for Maria Hill to finish her threats. She smiled when her eyes fell on her husband of two weeks. It had been a gruesome four days, and she was glad he woke up. Maria stood up, not particular keen on witnessing some more PDA between the couple that was sure to happen. "Alright, I better get going. You better get well soon, so we can get you out of here," she said, glaring at Hunter. They sure were very welcoming, here at S.H.I.E.L.D., maybe he'd try a hospital next time. "I'll send a doctor in to see how soon that'll be later. And Bobbi, I'll see you in my office on Monday," the deputy director said before turning around and closing the door behind her. It was Friday now, so that meant Bobbi just got the weekend of, how generous. "So, she's quite something," Lance mumbled. And then he shifted over so that a grinning Bobbi could climb in next to him, to get some peaceful sleep for the first time in four days.


End file.
